Blessing Of Fish, the musings of a Holy Paladin and his alts.

BA Shared Topic: Mementos

This is a shared topic from Blog Azeroth started by Feraltree. The theme is this: What items or mementos have you kept (in your toon’s pack or bank) and why? Whether it be keepsakes, quest rewards, special items, random drops, whatever! – why did you decide to hang on to it? What’s its significance to you?

Seeing as how I enjoyed writing from an RP perspective last time I did a shared topic, I’ll do it again today!

I had decided enough was enough. Ever since I had befriended an Argent Squire at the grand tournament, I’d been depositing all manner of rubbish in my Dalaran Bank account. I knew they kept the whole thing under wraps with compression spells and so on, but there really was no need for half the detritus that was gathered there. I hadn’t even checked it for months!

I strolled up the steps and into the Merchant’s Bank. Whilst not technically being a Merchant myself, my acts of heroism in the months past were more than enough for Rhonin to have offered myself and my companions total access to the more valuable of Dalaran’s resources. I had arrived here in the early morning, and the Tellers were just putting up the defensive spells round their stalls. There were barely any customers; a lone Dwarf sat on a bench reading notes on compound Gold interest through perched spectacles, and a willowy Human girl was arguing with Teller Gee about how many vials of poison it was legal to hold. I approached young Teller Almeida on the far left, who had always dealt with my business before.

‘Peace and prosperity, friend. Can I check my vault, please?’

Almeida twirled his pony-tail distractedly.

‘Good morning Sir. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I’m going to have to ask for some ID.’

‘I’ve never been asked for ID before!’

‘Kirin Tor policy now, Sir. There was a spate of robberies a few days ago. Apparently the Alchemists have cooked up a new batch of potions that will make you look like someone else, and of course that went straight to the Black Market…’

I groaned and nodded.

‘Ok, what do you need?’

It turned out to be relatively simple. I signed my name several times across various bits of parchment, the last of which glowed as I took my quill off the page. Almeida waved his hand over them and they bundled into a scroll, a red ribbon materialising and fastening round them. He placed the scroll on a pile of similar looking ones behind him, and opened the door at the side of his stall. He led me through a side door and down the dark steps, where a long passage faded into the darkness. We strolled along it in silence, passing door after door. Finally we reached number 42, my own personal vault. A clever function of the door was it required two keys, one held by the Tellers and one by the customer. We inserted these now, and the doors swung inwards. My jaw dropped.

The detritus of years was cluttered around the room. Paintings, busts, books, magical artifacts, all awash in a sea of gold. I had a vast fortune at my disposal, but it wasn’t really stored neatly. Almeida waited patiently by the door whilst I picked a few things out of the spill. A sheet of skin from a Black Dragon, a box of Holy Dust incase I ever needed to do deals with the Aldor again, a box of smiling grenades with the words ‘Party time!’ on the front, and towards the back, piles and piles of weaponry and gear I no longer wore but kept for sentimental reasons. I had been wearing that helmet when the Betrayer had fallen, or this Axe that I won after a season’s arena. Caught between two tabards was a Piccolo, magically enchanted to force nearby people to dance. It had seemed hilarious then; it seemed rather foolish now. An Argent Crusader’s Banner leaned against the wall, with a few moth bites out of it. And… oh! I hurried forwards, dropping everything else, and clambered over the piles of gold. I had spotted something on a high shelf.

The Happy Fun Rock! I stooped and picked it up. So many memories. Admittedly, most of these involved throwing it back and forth between various friends, but it was a gateway item. Through it, I remembered companions, both current and past, loved and lost. Tears filled my eyes. So many lost. One of the penalties of leading such a long life as a Draenei: you gather things. Memories, items, friendships and losses. I patted the rock, who’s scratched in smiling face was worn and faded now, and placed the it reverentially back on the shelf. I looked around, shaking my head, and backed out of the room.

‘Keep the lot’ I said, heaving a sigh as I strolled away. ‘Memories like that are too precious to throw away.’